Darcy's Big Wish
by Astonishment
Summary: What if Darcy made a life-altering wish at the Netherfield ball? Inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Big (the 1988 movie starring Tom Hanks). Fantasy, Fun, Friendship & Sweet Romance. (Note: There is no child/adult pairing in this story.)
1. Chapter 1 - Preview

**DARCY'S BIG WISH**

 **Summary:** What if Darcy made a life-altering wish at the Netherfield ball? Inspired by _Pride and Prejudice_ _,_ and _Big_ , (the 1988 movie starring Tom Hanks).

 **Disclaimer:** _"_ _Pride and Prejudice_ " is the creation of Jane Austen (1775 –1817). This story is property of the author. © 2017

 **Note:** This is a preview only.

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 **Jane Austen Quote:** "He began to wish to know more of her…" ( _Pride and Prejudice_ , Chapter 6)

 **Chapter 1**

Never had Fitzwilliam Darcy been so bewitched by a woman. From the moment she entered the Netherfield ballroom, his gaze followed her as she greeted the other guests. Her eyes sparkled and her melodious laugh echoed throughout the hall. She made her way slowly through the crowd with her older sister and he felt compelled to follow, drawn like a moth to a flame, taking no notice of the other guests' attempts to greet him. His sole focus was the only woman who had ever gained his notice.

When he first had met Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he thought her pretty enough though not a great beauty. Now that he had become better acquainted with her, he found her personality so lively and her eyes so expressive that he considered her quite beautiful. There was no denying that she had captured his attentions and presented a considerable danger. He had frequently cautioned himself in the past few weeks that an alliance with her was entirely unsuitable and to raise her expectations would be inappropriate. But those warnings were pushed back into the furthest recesses of his mind as he watched her glide from room to room, gracing her acquaintances with her warm smile. He chose, too, to ignore the troublesome thought that he was behaving like a schoolboy with a hopeless infatuation. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire was a man of the world; he did not suffer from infatuations.

Despite the hazards she presented, he lingered behind her as she greeted her friend. Miss Charlotte Lucas had been out in society for several seasons and was only a year younger than Darcy but her prospects were quite limited in this tiny community; for that matter, so were Miss Elizabeth's. The only other eligible gentlemen in Meryton besides himself and his friend Charles Bingley was her cousin, Mr. William Collins, a foolish parson.

He noticed Collins now as the parson made his entrance and greeted the Bennet family. His mannerisms were so exaggerated that he appeared as a bumbling fool, bowing and scraping to the other guests with much more reverence than propriety required. Miss Elizabeth smiled uneasily as Mr. Collins hovered near her, waiting for the first set to be announced. _Could he have already requested the first dance with her?—_ Darcy wondered.

Charles Bingley, Darcy's closest friend and the host of the ball, announced that the first set would begin momentarily. Charles took his place with his unmarried sister Caroline while his married sister Louisa took hers with her husband, Henry Hurst. Other couples approached the dance floor and Darcy cringed as the bumbling parson grasped Miss Elizabeth's hand and strutted to the set, then plodded his way through the steps as the music began. She smiled cordially but Darcy sensed that she must be mortified to stand up with him, even if her gracious manners gave no hint of her displeasure. But Darcy felt his annoyance rise each time the parson grasped her hand. His gaze drifted to Mrs. Bennet who was standing nearby watching their progress with great interest. _Is she conspiring for a match between them?_ Darcy shuddered at the thought of such a beautiful, lively and intelligent woman encumbered by an alliance with the gauche oaf. He resolved to ask Miss Elizabeth for a dance at the first opportunity.

 **~~o~~**

When Elizabeth Bennet entered the great hall at Netherfield, she felt as though she had been transported to a shimmering faery wonderland. Crystal and silver glimmered in the flickering candlelight. The guests were elegantly coiffed, dressed and bejewelled, while members of the local militia milled about in their brightly coloured regimentals. The general splendour was awe inspiring.

Elizabeth herself was in the highest spirits that night. She had already decided that nothing would diminish her enjoyment of the evening; not her odious cousin, Mr. Collins, whose fawning attentions had become quite disturbing of late; not her hostess, Miss Caroline Bingley, whose displeasure with Elizabeth was unmistakable; nor Mr. Darcy, whose disapproving glares had discomposed her on many previous occasions.

No, the single pleasure she sought this evening was the attentions of the handsome and charming Lieutenant Wickham, a new acquaintance attached to the local militia. She had been in company with him on a few occasions and he had impressed her with his good manners and amiable demeanour. She looked forward to becoming more acquainted with him and where better than on the dance floor?

The orchestra played in the background as she walked into the ballroom amidst a crush of people, straining for a glimpse of him through the crowd. Each nook and corner of the room was filled with guests except the one she sought; but she would not allow her hopes to diminish. She found her dear friend, Charlotte Lucas in good spirits and together they wandered to the parlour. Perhaps she might find the lieutenant there.

Unfortunately, Mr. Collins chose that moment to claim her hand for the first set. He had asked her days ago for the dance, making it impossible for her to refuse; she could not very well claim a prior engagement when they had only that day received the invitation to the ball from Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth steeled herself for an unpleasant dance, knowing that standing up with the pompous, status seeker would be mortifying in the extreme.

As she had feared, he regaled her with stories of his connections to the first circles of society, as if some of their importance and prominence had magically been bestowed upon him. He attempted to impress her with his attentions and she did everything in her power to avoid his foul breath, leering eyes and clumsy feet. She knew that he had spoken to her mama of a possible match between them but the very idea made her skin prickle. Her eventual match, she was certain, would be for the deepest, most enduring love, and certainly her troll-like cousin could never inspire such a romantic notion. The moment of her release from the dance was ecstasy and she exited the dance floor with Charlotte, relieved to finally be away from him.

Colonel Forster applied for her hand for the next set and she cheerfully agreed. Unlike Mr. Collins, the colonel was an excellent partner, never making a false step, never leering, never assaulting her senses with malodorous breath. He was in every way agreeable.

During their dance, she learned that Lieutenant Wickham had been called away on business to Town. She immediately suspected that the presence of a certain gentleman from Derbyshire was the real cause of his absence. Lieutenant Wickham had confided a most disturbing tale of their history and unfortunate dispute; since Mr. Darcy was a powerful and influential man, Mr. Wickham must have stayed away to avoid an unpleasant encounter. Elizabeth could scarcely blame him. Mr. Darcy had insulted her and refused to dance with her last month at the Meryton assembly and from that moment on, she herself had resolved to avoid the disagreeable man.

After the second set, she unexpectedly encountered Mr. Darcy who inexplicably applied for her hand for the third. Why he would request a dance when he clearly disapproved of her was a mystery to Elizabeth, but if she wished to continue dancing for the remainder of the evening, she had no other choice but to accept. Even though she had once vowed _never_ to dance with him, Charlotte reminded her that he was a man of great consequence. She accepted her fate with outward good humour but looked forward to the end of the set.

To be sure, when he escorted her to the dance floor, she was fully aware of the honour to stand up with such a distinguished gentleman, disagreeable as he was. He was quite handsome, too, and she had noticed that his smile made him even more so; but a smile was an infrequent adornment for the overly proud gentleman. _If only his manners were as charming as his appearance—_ she thought. Of course one could not very well smile while disapproving of all the world and its occupants, now could one?

She attempted to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation and failing this, decided to taunt him with the mention of Mr. Wickham's name, knowing perfectly well of his dispute with the lieutenant. While she made no direct references to his offence against Mr. Wickham, she made no hesitation to elude to it. Someone should take him to task for his malevolence. His response was icy and before she knew it, they were quarrelling in the middle of the dance floor.

Tonight was the night on which she had placed so many hopes – to see Lieutenant Wickham, to dance with him, to discover if he shared a similar regard – but it was all for naught. When she was finally released from her insufferable partner, she escaped to a balcony for a breath of fresh air and to collect her thoughts. She never could have predicted that the evening she had anticipated with such great delight would turn into a grim disaster. She had only danced three dances and wondered if she might do better to sit out the remaining sets.

 **~~o~~**

Although Darcy had not initially intended to dance with Miss Elizabeth that evening, their dance had not gone at all the way he would have planned. It had begun well enough and he had enjoyed the pleasant sensation of holding her gloved hand and guiding her through the set. Then she had mentioned Wickham's name and he had lost his temper. She obviously held the misguided opinion that Wickham was graced with an upstanding moral character and Darcy was the one deficient in that regard. He had not the inclination to disabuse her of that notion and had declined to engage her in further conversation about the blackguard. The protection of someone dear to him was of the utmost importance. However, now that his temper had cooled, he could not allow the blackguard to prevail in her opinion; he would correct her misapprehensions as discreetly as possible. He would seek another opportunity to dance with her later in the evening.

Miss Bingley hovered nearby, quite obviously waiting for him to request a dance. He had no desire to encourage her affections; her adulation and fawning, flirtatious manners were abhorrent. He had never given her the slightest encouragement but she made no secret of her desire for a match with him. Spending the last month with her as a guest at Netherfield had taken every ounce of his forbearance; he had resorted to evading her whenever possible. However, she _was_ the hostess of the evening and he could not very well avoid dancing with her at least _once_. He prepared himself for an unpleasant encounter, applied to her for the next set and was instantly accepted, with a deep curtsy and fluttering lashes.

The set began without exception until he noticed Miss Elizabeth dancing at the other end of the ballroom. Her partner was Mr. Denny, another officer and friend of the detestable Wickham. He wondered if Denny had the same proclivities—gambling, womanizing and idleness—though he did not appear to be using the dance as an opportunity to touch his partner inappropriately as Wickham was wont to do. Rather, he conducted himself in every way that a gentleman ought and Miss Elizabeth seemed to enjoy Denny's company. She smiled in her easy manner and showed no hesitation as she had done when dancing with the parson.

Darcy was captivated by her flowing movements; she seemed to glide through the dance as though her feet never touched the floor. But it occurred to him that she had not offered her smiles once during their dance together. To be sure, he had offered no smile of his own; his sister, Georgiana had often chided him for his habitual sternness, telling him that his frown made him appear more severe than he realized. However, his smile had always produced unfortunate dimples in his cheeks which he abhorred and he sought to avoid the absurdity at all costs. Such a childish appearance would never do for the master of Pemberley.

"Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked.

"Agree with what, Miss Bingley?" He turned his attentions to his partner, somewhat annoyed at being interrupted from his observation of the lovely Miss Elizabeth.

"That Charles is making a fool of himself tonight, following Miss Bennet like a puppy," she said with an air of disdain. She had made no secret of her contempt for the Bennet sisters, especially Miss Elizabeth whom she must consider a rival for his affections.

When Darcy had made the mistake of revealing his regard for Miss Elizabeth to Miss Bingley, citing his appreciation of her fine eyes, Miss Bingley had immediately reminded him of Miss Elizabeth's inferior standing and unsuitable connections. However, despite Miss Elizabeth's reduced circumstances, they far surpassed anything that Miss Bingley could aspire to. Although she refused to admit it, the Bingley family had their roots in trade while the Bennet family was of the landed gentry; Miss Elizabeth was superior to Caroline in that regard. "Charles is a grown man, Miss Bingley, capable of making his own choices," he said. He had no desire to discuss Charles' affairs with her or to converse with her at all, for that matter; he would much rather watch Miss Elizabeth.

 _Is she enjoying her dance with Denny more than her dance with me?—_ he wondered. Of course, he had to concede that she had most likely not enjoyed her dance with him at all. It had started out well enough but then she had mentioned Wickham; he had become so enraged, he had been obliged to bite his tongue to gain control of his temper. She in turn had challenged him and argued with him during the dance and finally walked away with a defiant expression. Denny, however, seemed to have evoked no such response from her; she was smiling and to all appearances was enjoying herself immensely.

 _At least the blackguard has shown the good sense to decline the invitation to this evening's event—_ Darcy thought, glad of Wickham's absence. He would have been unable to vouch for his own behaviour if he had been forced to observe the despicable Wickham dancing with the fair Miss Elizabeth; gazing at her fine form and allowing his hands to linger on hers longer than allowed for by the dance. He felt the heat rise to his face as he recalled that he had employed those very same devices during his own dance with Miss Elizabeth. But surely his intentions were more honourable than those of the blackguard; were they not? _What were my own intentions?—_ he wondered.

He was vaguely aware of Miss Bingley's constant attempts at conversation but was unable to tear his attention from Miss Elizabeth. _Why do I insist on seeking her out like a love-sick school boy?_ He chided himself for such foolishness, grasping Miss Bingley's gloved hand and they made their way down the dance together. As they passed by Miss Elizabeth and her partner, he noticed she was wearing her most enchanting smile and he wondered what they were talking about. She seemed to be in the highest spirits, so it was obvious they were not quarrelling. How vexing it was to watch her enjoy the company of another man. He turned and grasped his partner's hand again as they went back up the dance; unfortunately, he was unable to observe Miss Elizabeth from this vantage point.

"I hope you are enjoying the evening, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said.

 _As well as can be expected—_ he thought to himself. "Indeed, you are to be commended for the success of the evening," he replied. The other guests seemed to be enjoying themselves so it was not much of an exaggeration. He, on the other hand, looked forward to the end of the ball; he spent the remainder of the set planning his escape from Hertfordshire. That day could not come soon enough for Darcy.

After he had escorted Miss Bingley off the floor, he was accosted by the bumbling parson, who introduced himself under the guise of his connection to his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Collins informed Darcy that his aunt and cousin were in good health; the fool seemed under the impression that he had been remiss in relaying this information earlier and bowed in a ridiculously servile manner. Darcy had wondered how Aunt Catherine had seen fit to offer a living to such a buffoon though as he continued to speak, it became quite clear; she was overly fond of commanding respect and adulation from the lower classes and this minion was proficient in his display. "I am so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment that I am certain she would never bestow a favour unworthily," said Darcy in a caustic tone. Of course, this response had the opposite effect and the parson thanked him profusely and took his leave with a low bow.

 **~~o~~**

 **© 2017**


	2. Chapter 2 - Preview

**DARCY'S BIG WISH**

 **PREVIEW**

 **Chapter 2**

After a brief stay on the balcony to cool her temper, Elizabeth returned to the ballroom and encountered her friend Mr. Denny, who applied for her hand during the next set. Knowing of his impeccable manners, she gratefully accepted and he led her to the dance floor. Finally, the evening was about to improve! Mr. Denny was an amiable gentleman with none of the ridiculous or overbearing qualities of her two previous partners. She allowed herself to concentrate only on her enjoyment of the dance, which was easily accomplished since Mr. Denny was an excellent dancer. She cast aside all her worries, confident that the rest of the evening would be as enjoyable as the past half hour.

Having no partner for the next set, Elizabeth sat out and chatted with Charlotte and Mary, until she overheard her Mama boasting about Jane's expected match with Mr. Bingley. That her Mama would undertake such an embarrassing display was a source of deep shame for Elizabeth; Mr. Bingley had not even declared himself yet. _Oh, if Mama could only learn to keep her thoughts and exaggerations to herself!—_ she silently lamented. To boast of an alliance when no such intentions had ever been expressed was beyond the bounds of propriety; surely her Mama must be aware of such standards and the dangers of exposing her daughter to ridicule if the union never took place.

Elizabeth resisted the urge to sigh and forced herself to smile. _Would the supper hour never arrive?_ —she wondered. Mr. Collins, who had spent the entire set hovering nearby, approached her with breathless jubilation. "I have found out by singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my esteemed patroness!" he said. He explained in lengthy detail that Mr. Darcy was a nephew of the inimitable Lady Catherine and that he had every intention of paying his respects to the gentleman.

She became alarmed at this declaration; approaching someone of Mr. Darcy's consequence without first being introduced would be considered an impertinence. But Mr. Collins informed her that he had not the least concern of committing a social gaffe since, as a member of the clergy, he was "as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom." She could not imagine how a country parson would consider himself an equal to the King and Queen; did the man have any sense at all?

Her subsequent entreaties were all for naught but as he ran off to fulfil his self-appointed duty, she was relieved to be rid of him. She turned her attentions to her dearest Charlotte while they waited for supper to be announced. Nearby her sister Jane was speaking with Mr. Bingley; she smiled and his eyes were riveted to hers as they spoke, leaving Elizabeth to conclude that they enjoyed each other's company. Nothing gave her more pleasure than seeing her beloved Jane so happily converse with the amiable gentleman; she did so hope for a match between them. However, Elizabeth thought, she at least was sensible enough to keep her optimism to herself.

 **~~o~~**

After his encounter with the parson, Darcy left the parlour with all due haste, stepping out a side door for a breath of fresh air. The moon was nearly full that night and the flagstone path was lined with torches, revealing the lawn and garden beyond. From his vantage point on the portico, he noticed a crowd of men in the garden revelling as though they had not a care in the world. Perhaps they had none. A young woman moved within their midst, though she appeared to be in no danger of harm from the rowdy crowd thanks to the two burly men accompanying her, ensuring that none of the men touched her. It appeared as though she was reading palms and telling fortunes. Several of the men laughed with unrestrained abandon. _How liberating it must be to have no responsibilities and no burdens to bear. I wish I was not encumbered with such responsibilities—_ he thought. He doubted that any of them were expected to marry a woman of the highest calibre, with stellar connections and a stunning fortune. _Would that I could marry any woman of my choice._

As the crowd approached, the young woman came more fully into view. She was petite, wearing the travellers' garb: a white tunic with long, bell-shaped sleeves and a full flowing skirt in vivid jewel tones.[i] A bright yellow scarf was tied around the top of her head, revealing long dark curls which cascaded around her shoulders. Darcy noticed her delicate hands as she accepted the offered coins, dropped them into the coin pouch dangling from her belt and reached for each man's hand. The men seemed mesmerized by her, hovering around her and begging her to tell their fortunes.

"Read my palm next, Miss Zolta!" they cried.

"You shall have a strong son," she replied in a sweet, lilting voice. To another she said: "You shall live a long, healthy life."

"Tell me my fortune, Miss Zolta!" the others implored her. They grappled with one other and with the two burly guards but Miss Zolta seemed not to notice their actions, moving calmly and gracefully to the next reading.

"You shall be victorious in battle."

"You must take care not to squander your fortune."

"You often jump to conclusions and must endeavour to learn the truth."

"You have suffered many losses but you shall be rewarded for your loyalty."

After a few minutes, she came upon Darcy and dipped a small curtsy. "Ah, I see you are an important man, sir. Shall I read your palm?" she asked with a smile. The flames from the torches reflected in her dark eyes.

He smiled at the beautiful girl. What hardships she must suffer, forced to make a living in such a manner! "No, thank you, Miss," he said, reaching into his pocket for a coin.

She gazed into his eyes. "I thank you for your generosity, sir. Your wish has been granted," she said as she dropped the coin into her pouch. She curtsied and walked away with her two guards and the crowd of men followed her, beseeching her to read their palms and tell their fortunes.

Darcy chuckled as he watched the group walk away. _Which wish is granted?—_ he wondered. _That this evening were over? That I was back in London? That Miss Bingley would direct her attentions to some other poor soul!_ That thought made him laugh aloud. Then becoming more pensive, he considered what he might truly have wished for: that his parents were still alive, that he never had met George Wickham or employed Mrs. Younge as Georgiana's companion. _Would that I never had sent her to Ramsgate!—_ he thought, silently regretting that blunder.

He continuously blamed himself for poor Georgiana's near-elopement last August. He had arranged for her travel and accommodations at the seaside town with Mrs. Younge who, unbeknownst to him, had been a confidant of Wickham's. The blackguard had followed them and convinced his young, impressionable sister to agree to an elopement. If not for Darcy's unplanned and unexpected visit, Wickham would have taken her to Gretna Green; it was unbearable to imagine what would have become of his dear sister then. Her despair in the weeks that followed was a constant source of regret for him and a reminder of his deficiencies as her guardian. If not for his failure, his sister would not have suffered unimaginable sorrow and needless remorse.

A footman came outdoors to advise him that supper was about to begin and he walked back into the house, steeling himself for what was sure to be an uncomfortable hour. Hoping for intelligent conversation, he chose a chair next to Colonel Forster but soon came to regret his choice when Mrs. Bennet sat opposite them and took command of the conversation. She went on at length to everyone within hearing distance about her expectations of an advantageous match between her eldest daughter and Charles Bingley. Darcy listened in revulsion as she boasted of Charles's charm and wealth and how the match was widely anticipated in the neighbourhood. Besides being outside the bounds of propriety, this match-making mama's presumptuous claims had no basis in reality. Prior to this evening, Charles had scarcely been in company with Miss Bennet. More to the point, if his friend had come to an understanding with the lady, surely he would have mentioned it to him.

Miss Elizabeth who was seated at Mrs. Bennet's side, attempted in vain to control her mother's outburst; however this only served to draw still more crudities and loud declarations from her errant parent. He sensed her humiliation; each time she cast her eyes in his direction she quickly averted them, though in his mind she had made a valiant attempt to reason with her mother.

 _Does the woman have no discretion at all? Has she ever considered tempering her effusions to a less vulgar level?_ —he wondered. He made a note to reveal the speculation to Charles at the earliest opportunity. Certainly his friend contemplated no such thing; did he?

Eventually, Mrs. Bennet exhausted all matters related to her daughter's eventual conquest of Charles Bingley and ate her meal in merciful silence. He watched Miss Elizabeth during supper and she seemed to have recovered well from the embarrassing incident, conversing amiably with the other guests.

When supper was at long last over, Darcy moved to the parlour where he could comfortably observe Miss Elizabeth from a distance. He could not help feeling some sympathy for her, plagued with such disgraceful relations; her mother was far too outspoken and her father too inattentive. Her bumbling cousin applied for her hand again and was rebuffed. Ordinarily Darcy would have derived some enjoyment from the bumbler's rejection; however, this now prohibited Miss Elizabeth from dancing for the remainder of the evening. This was quite unfortunate as Darcy would have enjoyed another set with her and the opportunity to defend himself against the blackguard Wickham. As this was now impossible, he contented himself with observing the fair young lady as she conversed with her sisters and friends.

Miss Mary Bennet then approached the piano-forte and sang a song more appropriate to a funeral than an event as jubilant as this; well, perhaps jubilant was an overstatement, especially for Miss Elizabeth. She appeared mortified by her sister's ill-chosen display and shifted her eyes from her sister to her father, silently entreating him to intervene. Unfortunately, he did so in such an abrupt and public manner that poor Miss Mary was reduced to tears. No, Darcy concluded; jubilant would not be an effective description of the evening's events.

 **~~o~~**

What had begun as an evening of anticipated delights had ended in humiliation. Elizabeth and her family were finally on their way home to Longbourn after an evening filled with one misery after another. Mr. Wickham had not been there and she had been unable to learn any other news of him. The only bright spot in the evening had been her dance with Mr. Denny.

She had been mistaken in her assumption that supper would be a sedate affair; her Mama had insisted on boasting to Lady Lucas of Jane's pending match with Mr. Bingley. When Elizabeth had tried to prevent her from making such observations within Mr. Darcy's hearing, this only served to increase her mama's displeasure with the gentleman. The expression on Mr. Darcy's face had confirmed he had indeed overheard her Mama's insults; his countenance was severe and grave. It had been bad enough that her dance with him had gone so poorly but by the time supper was finished and the party had returned to the ballroom, Mr. Darcy's annoyance with the Bennets was unmistakable.

Then after supper, her sister Mary had decided to display her skills on the piano-forte. Elizabeth loved her sister dearly but readily conceded that her talent was not nearly as great as Mary imagined. She had practiced the same dull song all week; hearing that mournful tune emanating from the piano-forte that evening only reminded Elizabeth how her own merry mood had been replaced by gloom and disenchantment. Thankfully, her father had intervened, but with so little diplomacy that poor Mary was forced to abruptly cease playing, of which she had not the slightest expectation. She had quit the parlour in the greatest hurry.

If that had not been bad enough, she had observed with horror her younger sisters shamelessly flirting with the officers and giggling with unrestrained abandon, most likely due to their over-indulgence in the punch. She had been painfully aware of their unchecked conduct but it was never more evident than tonight.

Of course, Mr. Collins had spent most of the evening attempting to impress her and she felt sure he was on the verge of addressing her. She could not imagine a worse prospect! His troll-like demeanour and supercilious manners had been mortifying in the extreme; to even consider a match with him was impossible.

The Bennets had been one of the last parties to call for their carriage but, finally, blessedly, they left Netherfield. When the carriage finally arrived at Longbourn, she bade goodnight to her family and retreated to the comfort of her chamber, ready to put this day and horrible night to an end.

 **~~o~~**

 **Copyright 2017. All rights reserved by the author.**

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[i] In this story, Miss Zolta and her family are referred to as 'travellers' rather than another more popular, but derogatory term.

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